


The Grimmjow x Renji x Shuuhei Smutfic

by goldensprite



Category: Bleach
Genre: AU, M/M, Multi, Threesome - M/M/M, mechanic AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-28 05:12:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/670655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldensprite/pseuds/goldensprite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grimmjow's a mechanic, working hard and minding his own business, when two impossibly hot guys stroll into his workshop and make bedroom eyes at him. Porn ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What did it matter if the two (very sexy) men in his workshop happened to be gay?

‘Drinking on the job?’

Grimmjow half-opened his eyes. Il Forte was smiling down at him, haloed by the fluorescent lights.

‘Doesn’t matter. Nobody comes in on St Patrick’s Day.’ Grimmjow handed the bottle up to him. ‘Too busy getting smashed.’ 

‘So you thought you’d join in, hm?’ 

Il Forte turned the bottle around, reading the label. ‘This is _good_ wine, Grimmjow.’ He sounded surprised. 

Grimmjow grinned. ‘I know.’

Il Forte raised an eyebrow at him. ‘You shouldn’t drink good wine out of the bottle.’

‘Who gives a shit?’ 

Il Forte had already turned away, though, disappearing into his workshop long enough for Grimmjow to realise that he’d taken the bottle with him, coming out again with two wine glasses.

‘ _I_ give a shit, Grimmjow.’ He handed Grimmjow a glass, nicely filled. ‘We may work at a motorshop, but we aren’t barbarians.’

‘Speak for yourself.’ He had liked the bottle. It was heavy and solid, and he liked the echoing, sloshing noises the wine made inside. 

The wineglass felt very breakable. He was also smearing grease on it.

‘Where’d you get these? And why the fuck are you keeping them in your workshop?’ he asked as Il Forte sat beside him. 

‘We used them at our opening. Don’t remember?’

Grimmjow shrugged. He took a sip of wine, leaning his head back and shutting his eyes again.

He heard the soft chink of glass against teeth, and Il Forte humming appreciatively. 

‘Lovely. So smooth.’

Another soft clink, a sigh.

‘So unlike you. Where did you get this?’

‘Grateful client.’

‘Byakuya Kuchiki?’ Il Forte’s tone was sly; he was too perceptive for his own fucking good.

‘Yeah, so?’

‘No reason.’

Grimmjow heard rhythmic liquid noises; Il Forte was probably swirling his wine around the glass. He liked doing that.

They sat together, quiet except for the sound of wineglasses being emptied. Il Forte was good at silence; Grimmjow appreciated that.

‘You know, Ulquiorra told me that wine is best drunk from a wide-mouthed glass, so the full range of flavour can be appreciated.’ Il Forte sounded far away.

‘Did he now…’ Grimmjow mumbled. If there was a difference, he couldn’t taste it. ‘Where is Batman anyway?’

‘He just stepped out. Needed to pick something up, he said.’

‘Hmph.’

The La Pantera motorshop was Grimmjow’s, and he was proud as fuck of the place. He’d worked his ass off since high school, aiming to save enough money to open up his own shop. Just over a year and a half ago he had bought a nice old building, fixing it up and starting out with his five oldest friends.

La Pantera’s popularity had grown rapidly, to Grimmjow’s complete lack of surprise. He _knew_ he was good at what he did, and he knew his team had their shit together. It was only natural that other people would come to appreciate it. Il Forte was his airbrush artist, and the only La Pantera denizen who didn’t multitask. As the shop’s popularity surged, Il Forte’s workload had skyrocketed, eventually becoming too much for him to handle alone. Il Forte hadn’t said a word about it. Grimmjow suspected that he’d stopped sleeping at some stage, staying overnight to finish whatever he had lined up. Grimmjow knew that Il Forte would have silently, happily worked himself to the bone before he’d allow the shop’s reputation to suffer.

Grimmjow, however, had seen Il Forte hollow-eyed and pale more times than he’d liked, and hired another airbrush artist to lighten the load. Ulquiorra Schiffer’s work had appealed to him – it was vibrant, playful, and creative. He had never dreamed that the man himself would turn out to be such a tightass. Ulquiorra kept to himself, mostly, spending most of his time alone in his workshop; it was more like being haunted than having a co-worker. Grimmjow had taken to calling him ‘Batman’. Il Forte seemed to get along with Ulquiorra, but that was what Il Forte did. 

The soft swishing noises from Il Forte’s glass were lulling Grimmjow to sleep. He was warm and comfortable: this particular patch of floor had been designated his since he bought the place. It got the best sunlight, and he liked the way he could keep an eye on everything from where he sat. Someone had left a soft blue cushion there one day, and now Grimmjow couldn’t be moved from there for anything.

Well, almost anything.

He grunted. He could hear the hum of an engine; getting closer, by the sound of it.

He opened his eyes, sighing deeply. ‘Who’s still sober enough to drive?’ he wondered out loud, his sleep-buzz lifting.

‘Must be your appointment for today.’

Grimmjow looked sidelong at Il Forte. ‘It’s fucking St Patrick’s Day, I don’t have any fucking appointments today.’

He had been counting on it – he wouldn’t have been drinking if he’d thought someone would come in. It wouldn’t actually impair him, it was just fucking unprofessional. He’d only really come to work to take care of some minor things that never got taken care of during the everyday chaos. Mainly, though, he was at work because he didn’t know how not to be.

Il Forte sighed. ‘I left you a memo about it,’ he said.

‘You know I don’t read those fucking things.’

‘So why’d you let us put up notice boards in the first place?’

‘Keep Shawlong happy.’ Grimmjow got to his feet and stretched. ‘Who’s this jackass anyway? How’d he hear about us?’

‘Everyone knows about La Pantera.’ Il Forte stood, peering at the approaching lights. ‘I spoke to him on the phone, just wants a standard checkup. I didn’t ask who referred him.’ 

He smiled up at Grimmjow. ‘He has a nice bedroom voice.’

‘Hmph.’

The car pulled into the workshop, stopping less smoothly than it had the potential to. It was a seventies model, long and sleek. Dark blue. Grimmjow didn’t suppose it was easy to find a mechanic for it. Not a good one anyway.

He washed the grease off his hands, drying them on itchy paper towel (grunting a negative at Il Forte’s offer of perfumed moist towelettes, but accepting one of his breath mints) and turning as he heard the car door open.

‘Looks good,’ Il Forte whispered as he passed, carrying the bottle and wineglasses away.  
Grimmjow opened his mouth to ask what he meant, but then he saw it too.

Well, god damn.

The driver of the car was a tall young man with spiky black hair and sharp features. He wore a black vest and black jeans, and he wore them well – Grimmjow slid his eyes over the man’s body as he dropped to one knee, tying his shoelace. Strong shoulders, slender hips – he looked too slender to be as muscular as he was. He wore an armband around each (nicely shaped) bicep and a choker around his (graceful) neck, black chain-link against his softly-tanned skin.

He straightened, brushing dirt off his pants, and Grimmjow got a better look at his face. His eyes were heavy-lidded; he looked like he was always looking down, or always sad. Straight, serious mouth. Sharp jaw. There were three parallel scars down over his right eye: Grimmjow wondered just how the fuck he had got them without losing his eye altogether. The scars seemed to suit his serious face, though. There was also a bluish-grey stripe tattooed along his cheekbone, going over the bridge of his nose and _fuck_ but getting that must have hurt.

Grimmjow flicked the crumpled paper towel into the trash can and the man noticed him for the first time. As he turned toward him, the tattoo on his other cheek came into view. Grimmjow suppressed a grin.

_69, huh?_

‘Are you Mr. Jaegerjack?’

Grimmjow nodded. He hadn’t been expecting such a deep voice. ‘Grimmjow Jaegerjack.’

The man came forward, reaching out to shake Grimmjow’s hand. ‘Shuuhei Hisagi.’

He was a little shorter than Grimmjow, and had a nice firm handshake.

‘I spoke to a Mr Grantz on the phone. He told me that you didn’t mind seeing me today, Mr Jaeg-’

‘Grimmjow.’

‘G-Grimmjow,’ Shuuhei repeated, smiling slightly. ‘I really appreciate you seeing me today… Is it really no trouble?’

‘Nah. Was getting bored, doing nothing all day.’

Grimmjow had just been making an offhand remark, but Shuuhei looked genuinely mortified at the idea of cutting into his leisure time. 

‘Really. It’s no trouble,’ he said, more seriously this time, and the kid practically sparkled at him.

‘I really appreciate it,’ he said. ‘For a car like this, finding a reliable mechanic is very difficult.’

‘How’d you find out about this place?’ Maybe it was just his natural paranoia, but Grimmjow always wanted to know who came from where.’

‘Colleague of mine.’

Grimmjow blinked. He hadn’t even noticed there was someone else in the car.  
The other man was leaning against the passenger-side door; Grimmjow could only see above his shoulders. Red hair. Strong jaw, high cheekbones. He wore tinted glasses, so Grimmjow couldn’t see his eyes. Full, sexy mouth. His eyebrows looked… strange.

‘That’s right, one of Renji’s colleagues told us about La Pantera,’ Shuuhei continued. ‘Yoruichi Shihouin.’

‘She said you had her car purring like a kitten when you were through with it,’ the red-haired man added, stepping forward.

'That so?' It had been _Yoruichi_ purring like a kitten under Grimmjow’s hands, but he didn’t think she had told them _that_.

The red-haired man stepped around the car and Grimmjow got a good look at him. He had obviously been slouching over the door; close-to he was Grimmjow’s height, and just as broad across the shoulders. As he slid off his purple-tinted glasses he looked Grimmjow in the eye and grinned: Grimmjow thought he had never seen more mischievous eyes in his whole life. Narrow, slanted, come-and-fuck-me eyes; a velvety brown so rich it was almost red. Hell, Grimmjow didn’t think he’d ever seen a more mischievous _face_ : those eyes and vaguely elf-ish ears coupled with that wolf-in-the-chicken-coop grin… Renji looked like he was cheerfully plotting a very sexy world take-over.

Renji’s eyebrows, it turned out, were _tattooed_ on. There were also matching lightning-bolt slashes on the sides of his neck, and as Renji slipped his glasses into the collar of his shirt, Grimmjow saw more black lines peeking out from beneath his collar.

The redhead came to stand beside Shuuhei, slouching comfortably, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his black trenchcoat. The movement pulled apart the lapels of his coat, revealing his white button-down shirt. Grimmjow could make out vague lines through the fabric where his tattoos darkened his skin beneath.

‘Yeah. She wouldn’t shut up about how great it was.’

Renji had a much rougher voice than Shuuhei. Shuuhei’s was low and smooth; Renji’s was husky. Unrestrained.

_Are they…?_

Grimmjow crunched down on his breath mint. What did it matter if the two (very sexy) men in his workshop happened to be gay?

This was business.

As a general rule, Grimmjow did _not_ fuck his clients. It made repeat business difficult, for one thing. Most of his clients (the big spenders, anyway) were men, full of machismo and arrogance, and the reality was that men like that didn’t want their cars fixed by men who fucked other men. 

Byakuya Kuchiki… well, that had been interesting. When Mister Rich Man had come in with his nose in the air and his head up his ass, Grimmjow had wanted to snarl. Everything about the man had pissed him off; his white, tender hands had obviously never been put to work his whole life, his polished, posh-school accent grated on Grimmjow’s ears and his stupid designer clothes just begged to be smeared with grease. 

When Byakuya had come to pick up his impossibly vintage car and his hand had lingered over Grimmjow’s, Grimmjow had known very well what he saw in those holier-than-thou eyes: Mister Rich Man was getting off on the thought of slumming it with a common mechanic. Grimmjow had security cameras installed, and he knew it wouldn’t have taken a trained lip reader to make out Byakuya’s response when he asked, ‘Is there something else I can do for you, Mr Kuchiki?’ 

Knowing that had helped; he knew the little bitch couldn’t complain afterward when Grimmjow fucked him senseless, bending him over the hood of his car, spilling little beads of blood (which _wasn’t_ blue, to Grimmjow’s mild surprise) on the paintwork where he bit and scratched his paper-white skin.

Yoruichi, on the other hand, had jumped on _him_. It would have been rude to refuse.

Grimmjow sighed. It didn’t matter _how_ sexy they were. This was business. 

‘Just a checkup?’

‘Yes, that’s right.’

He kept his eyes off both men, curbing his wandering mind. He gestured vaguely with his hand.

‘Waiting room’s that way.’

‘Thank you very much, Mister Jaeg- Grimmjow.’

Grimmjow grunted, strapping on his toolbelt. He heard them talking to one another, Shuuhei laughing softly, their voices fading as they moved into the other room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grimmjow knew from Shuuhei’s driver’s license that they were the same age, but he found he couldn’t help thinking of him as a kid. His respectful manner and perfect posture; that quiet, calm voice – Grimmjow found he could picture him in school uniform all too easily.

There was a box of chocolates on the passenger seat.

Grimmjow blinked at it. The heart-shaped, black velvet box, tied with red silk ribbon, looked surreal against the wood and leather interior. 

It was strange: people normally emptied their cars out before leaving them with a mechanic. It had always irked him that people thought he was going to steal their stupid shit. Like the owner of La fucking Pantera needed to steal anything. Bastards.

But no. Shuuhei’s car was still full of things. Books. Acoustic guitar. Dark red jacket. A small toy baboon with a snake for a tail sitting on the dashboard, and a dog-eared library card next to that. Half-finished bottle of lemonade on the backseat. Stuffed purple donkey with a morose expression on its face: Grimmjow almost dropped it when it droned, ‘Thanks for noticing me,’ as he moved it aside.

The kid was either very trusting, or very absent-minded.

Grimmjow knew from Shuuhei’s driver’s license that they were the same age, but he found he couldn’t help thinking of him as a kid. His respectful manner and perfect posture; that quiet, calm voice – Grimmjow found he could picture him in school uniform all too easily. Neat white shirt, always tucked in, buttoned all the way to the collar. School tie always perfectly knotted. Crisp blazer, unscuffed shoes. Class captain. The teachers’ favourite, but not a snitch. Broke apart fights, took people to the school nurse. Turned bright red whenever he got valentine notes, as he inevitably always did. Stood up for people.

 _(so what did the fact that that made him even keener on the kid say about him?)_

He sighed, and popped the hood open.

Cracking his knuckles and rolling his shoulders, he looked down at the engine. He was so used to doing this now he could do it in his sleep. He didn’t even have to pay attention; his mind was free to wander, leaving his hands and eyes to gauge and assess.

Grimmjow wondered vaguely whether he and Shuuhei would have gotten along in high school. He himself had hated school. He had agreed with delinquency in principle, but since it made you stand out _more_ , he had given it a pass. All he had wanted to do was _get out_ , and he had figured that the journey would be easier if he flew below the radar. It had rankled, feeling like he was on a leash, but he had rationalised that he could walk with it. He could deal with trading a few freedoms in exchange for the ‘big’ freedom: at the end of it all he would be declared an adult (a fine, upstanding, positive-contribution-to-society-and-all-that-bullshit adult, since teachers generally seemed to equate a lack of blatant hostility with capability) and then he could do whatever the fuck he wished, and that would be worth it.

He grabbed his hydraulic jack, slipping it underneath the front of the car and cranking the handle. 

For the most part he had kept to himself, doing what he had to, working just hard enough that he wasn’t conspicuously smart or ridiculously stupid. Even back then he had been impressively tall and well-muscled for his age, and the other students had taken that as a sign that he was not to be fucked with. That had suited him just fine.

He’d remained (not unhappily) friendless until he walked out of the school gym one day and heard shouts and jeers that had made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. Looking around, he’d seen several of the school’s biggest, stupidest boys clustered around Il Forte, his arms pinned behind his back and cheek pressed into the dirt, already bleeding from his lip and blackened around the eye. Grimmjow’s reputation as somebody not to fuck with was cemented after he put them all in the hospital for three weeks, coming away barely scratched himself.

When his suspension finally ended and he’d come back to school, a much cheerier-looking Il Forte had come over to him during lunch with a batch of cookies to say thank you, and to invite Grimmjow to eat with them. _Them_ had turned out to be a group of five who didn’t seem to really fit in anywhere else and had kind of drifted together. Grimmjow felt comfortable with them. They were undemanding and uncomplicated; they understood silence like he did. He had stayed there.

Grimmjow pushed the jack stands into position, picked up a drain bin, and lay on his back, inching himself underneath the car.

Now _Renji_ , on the other hand… Grimmjow could imagine him as a delinquent. Those baggy clothes, that slouch. That come-and-get-it grin. Hair longer than the regulation length and _fuck you_ if you had a problem with it, asshole. Grimmjow could see him with his tie half undone or off completely, blazer slung over his shoulder, shirt untucked _(was he tattooed back then?)_ , Renji himself unconcerned with who saw the cigarettes in his pocket. One of those kids who took attendance as an option rather than an obligation.

Still, as ornery as he looked, Grimmjow couldn’t imagine him beating people weaker than himself, like the fuckwads at his school had done.

He took his wrench from his toolbelt and carefully loosened the oil plug.

Would they have bothered with school clubs? Maybe Shuuhei would have played chess, or joined the literature club. He would have been the perfect upperclassman; always made everyone feel right at home, even drawing out the shy ones.

And Renji? The wrestling team maybe? Fencing? Nah. Swimming? _Swimming…_

Grimmjow reached down for his strap wrench, but his fingers brushed against his abdomen instead. He blinked. The slot on his toolbelt was empty. He didn’t have his strap wrench.

He cursed. He was already underneath the car, it would be a pain in the ass to get up and find the damn thing. But he had no choice. Fuck. 

He slid out again.

There was grease all over his wrists and forearms, and that was always a pain to shift, so he just wiped his palms clean as best he could.

Il Forte was still gone, but Ed was at a workbench nearby, tinkering with something and humming to himself.

‘Edorad, did you take my strap wrench?’

He just shook his head, concentrating on what he was doing.

Grimmjow gritted his teeth. The others weren’t here so… last resort. 

‘Oi, Il Forte! Have you seen my wrench?’

‘I saw _a_ wrench,’ Il Forte called. He came around the door, holding his index fingers apart slightly, indicating how big it was; it looked about right. ‘In the storeroom, by the door.’

Grimmjow sighed. He hated it when people messed with his system.

Il Forte smiled at him. ‘Want some coffee?’  
~*~  
The kitchen was warm and painted blue, and didn’t smell of grease or gasoline.

‘Wash your hands. You covered that wine glass in grimy fingerprints.’

Grimmjow knew better than to argue. 

The waiting room had been empty, he’d noted. If those two were exploring he hoped they weren’t in Batman’s workshop, or he would hear all about it tomorrow.

Drying his hands on his pants, he turned away from the sink. He beamed: there was a jar of chocolate spread on the counter. He opened it (the lid wasn’t screwed on freakishly tightly, so it wasn’t Nakim’s or Edorad’s) and swiped his fingertip inside, furrowing the mostly smooth surface.

‘Grimmjow.’

Grimmjow froze, his finger still in his mouth.

He slid his eyes toward Il Forte; the blonde man had his back to him, taking down coffee mugs from the cupboard, but he was holding a teaspoon out toward him. 

‘Use a spoon,’ he said.

He took it. He supposed it should have been creepy, how well Il Forte knew him, but it worked. Somehow.

Scooping up a generous teaspoonful and closing the jar, he gazed out of the window. It would be dark soon…

Il Forte turned and passed him a mug of steaming coffee. The plain white mugs they’d used when they first opened had long been donated to charity; the colourful mugs they had now had been a gift from one of La Pantera’s first ever clients, Yumichika Ayasegawa. Grimmjow rather liked Yumichika: he had come in to get his motorbike serviced and had been so taken with the place he now swore he would never let anybody but Grimmjow lay a hand on Ruriiro Kujaku. He’d been delighted by the samples he’d seen of Il Forte’s work, and had instantly commissioned some for his bike: peacock feathers in deep blue, indigo, and gold. Yumichika had recommended La Pantera to so many people Grimmjow sometimes wondered whether he ought to be on the payroll himself.

The slender, cheerful man had also impressed Grimmjow by very efficiently breaking the nose of a long-distance trucker built like a brick shithouse (the man had jeered at the ‘gaywad’ artwork on his bike and the feathers he wore on his eyelash and eyebrow) and, additionally, by having the decency to do it _outside_ the La Pantera premises, and _after_ the guy had paid.

Also, Grimmjow would never forget the priceless shade of red Il Forte had turned when he told him that Yumichika had kicked the guy’s ass for making fun of his work.

Yumichika was due in every six months for general maintenance, so Grimmjow had been surprised when he roared in a few days before La Pantera’s first Christmas, bearing santa claus hats, christmas crackers, mistletoe (which Grimmjow had stayed well away from), snacks, a gift, and a tiny tree.

His gift had turned out to be a set of Muppets-themed mugs _(those plain white ones aren’t very beautiful, are they? Yumichika had explained)_ , and aside from the instant, unanimous decision that the Elmo mug should go to Il Forte, Grimmjow hadn’t been aware of any other battle lines being drawn. He had always just used whichever one was closest to him when he needed one. He’d only realised how serious things were when he heard Edorad tell a newly-hired Ulquiorra that the Animal mug was _his_ , but there were still several unclaimed mugs in the cupboard for him to choose from for his next cup of coffee.

After that, Grimmjow had started paying attention when the morning coffee was being handed out, to see which ones went where. Shawlong seemed to like The Count, Nakim seemed to like Gonzo, and D Roy seemed to like the Swedish Chef. Whether Batman had picked one for himself, Grimmjow didn’t know, but he was generally handed the Beaker mug by whoever made the coffee that day. Grimmjow had given him the Miss Piggy mug once, to see if he’d get a reaction from the man, but Batman had remained predictably quiet.

Grimmjow himself was torn between Cookie Monster and Oscar the Grouch.

The mug (Oscar this time) was pleasantly hot; he curled his hands around it, warming them up. Il Forte always made sure they had the really good stuff, and the scent of it perked him right up.

The brightly-iced cookie Il Forte handed him, however…

‘The fuck is this?’

Il Forte shook his head. ‘I’m insulted. It’s a leprechaun, Grimmjow.’

‘I can see _that_ , I mean why the fuck am I _eating_ one?’

‘D Roy asked for them. Speaking of which, what time should we leave for the parade? It should be starting soon.’

D Roy loved St Patrick’s Day; he’d been talking about the parade for weeks now.

‘About an hour?’ He bit the head off his leprechaun cookie. It wasn’t bad.

Il Forte picked up Edorad’s mug and a plate of cookies and turned toward the workshop. He took two steps, then stopped dead.

‘ _Who_ put that there?’

Grimmjow looked around the table. There was a box on the ground, the bubble-wrap half pulled out, and what looked like a shock absorber inside. ‘Nakim, maybe?’

‘Why would he leave it in the kitchen?’ Il Forte puffed the hair off his face. 

Grimmjow hid his smirk behind his coffee cup; it was funny seeing Il Forte annoyed. ‘I’ll put it in the storeroom,’ he said. He was going there anyway.

‘You shouldn’t _have_ to.’

‘Baby steps.’ He grinned: Il Forte was fond of saying that to them whenever things weren't working out right.

Il Forte’s mouth twisted. He tossed his hair over his shoulder and turned away. 

Grimmjow reached around him and lifted two more cookies off the plate.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was surreal, almost, being held there like that, surrounded by familiar everyday things and familiar everyday scents, with two gorgeous strangers pressed up against him.

The box wasn’t heavy. Grimmjow lifted it easily and set it against his hip, taking his coffee cup and walking out of the kitchen. He liked the storeroom. It was cool and quiet and smelled of new things and old things at the same time. It was big enough for everyone to keep their crap in, and the shelves were long and generous, making it the first storeroom he’d ever had that wasn’t knee-deep in junk.

He reached to push at the doorhandle with his coffee cup, but the door swung quietly out of reach at his touch. He blinked at it. _This_ door was usually shut. It sent up a tiny gust as it moved, brushing against his skin and making him realise that the hair on his forearms and the back of his neck was bristling.

He went inside.

Grimmjow heard them before he saw them, but the soft moan that reached his ears didn’t even register at first, it was so out of place. It was a glimmer of something that drew his eye, a glint of light reflected off Shuuhei’s choker: Renji had the kid shoved up against a shelf, one hand fisted in his hair and yanking his head so far back Grimmjow could only see Shuuhei’s parted lips and collared throat. Renji’s other hand was pushed under his vest, hitching it up almost over his nipples. The tips of his teeth gleamed as he dragged them across Shuuhei’s collarbones.

Grimmjow only realised how _tight_ his fingers were clenched when his nails pierced the cardboard box he was holding and his fingertips touched something cold inside, startling him into dropping the damn thing.

They froze at the noise, Shuuhei going crimson and yanking his shirt down over Renji’s arm.

‘Grimmjow?’

Il Forte’s voice from the other side of the door. Grimmjow leaned back against it so it wouldn’t open.

‘I just dropped something, that’s all. I’m fine.’ 

It surprised him just how _calm_ his voice sounded. His gaze fell on a can of light pink paint on the shelf and he kept his attention fixed on it, his mind cataloguing quietly.

_Cherry blossom and koi pattern… Coming in to pick it up on Friday… Have to make sure it’s clean…_

‘You _didn’t_ wash your hands, did you?’

Il Forte’s footsteps faded, and Grimmjow turned for the door. He saw his wrench out of the corner of his eye and reached for it, his eyes not leaving the doorhandle. It was so close by, why did it feel like he couldn’t reach it fast enough?

He became aware of movement behind him and turned his head to see a tanned arm push past his shoulder, shutting the door gently.

‘Where are you going?’

Renji’s voice was husky, his breath touching Grimmjow’s ear.

Grimmjow turned around. Renji’s trenchcoat was off, the top two buttons on his shirt undone. He forced his eyes to stay on Renji’s, to stay _off_ those tattoos ( _ **fuck** , just how far down **did** they go? _ ) peeking out from under his collar.

Except it didn’t help. Renji was horny as hell; those fuck-me eyes of his were practically glowing with lust.

Grimmjow’s lip curled. ‘Isn’t this a private party?’ he growled.

Renji just smirked. ‘I _saw_ your eyes on him earlier,’ he said, nodding his head toward the kid. The thought didn’t seem to bother him in the least.

‘Tch. Shouldn’t you _ask_? Or are you just going to consent _for_ him?’

Renji’s smirk widened and he looked over his shoulder at Shuuhei, keeping his palm against the door, trapping Grimmjow in place.

Grimmjow sighed. He took a sip of his coffee. It was good: still hot, and just bitter enough.

Shuuhei stepped forward. Grimmjow followed his movements, watching him over the rim of his cup. The kid’s lower lip was pulled in slightly, clasped between his teeth, and he wouldn’t look Grimmjow in the face.

Grimmjow straightened up. Shuuhei looked so nervous, he was embarrassed _for_ him. There was no need for this. He’d just leave, finish up with that car as fast as he could, and never see either of these two again.

But…

Shuuhei was close now, close enough to touch – _fuck_ , close enough to breathe in – but his eyes still wouldn’t quite meet Grimmjow’s. They seemed darker than before, half-hidden beneath his heavy lids. He raised one hand. His watch was turned around on his wrist, and Grimmjow could see the jerky second-hand out of the corner of his eye, could hear the soft ticking as Shuuhei’s fingers drew close to his face. To his mouth. The kid smoothed his thumb gently across Grimmjow’s upper lip, making him hiss at the slow drag of skin on skin.

‘Stay.’

Grimmjow’s fingers clenched around his cup. Shuuhei’s voice, too, was slightly hoarse, lower than before.

Shuuhei brought his hand to his mouth, almost thoughtfully, and sucked the coffee foam off his thumb.

_Fuck._

Grimmjow shut his eyes, leaning his head back against the door. 

‘Il Forte!’

‘Hm?’ His voice was muffled; he must have been in the kitchen.

‘Go on without me.’

‘What?’ The voice was closer now.

‘The parade. You and Edorad go ahead. I’ll catch up later.’

Renji began to walk his fingers down Grimmjow’s chest. His other hand was still braced against the door; with his eyes closed, Grimmjow could feel the heat from Renji’s skin, tingling against his cheek.

‘Are you sure? It won’t feel _right_ without you there.’

‘I’ll go when I finish up.’

Il Forte was silent for a second. ‘Alright.’ Another pause. ‘You’ll be okay by yourself?’

‘Tch. I don’t need you two to babysit me.’

‘Alright.’ Another, longer pause. ‘Try to get there before Nakim gets smashed, okay? You’re the only one who can get him to stop singing.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Okay. See you later.’

Il Forte’s footsteps grew soft; Grimmjow heard his voice far away, and Edorad’s voice, and the clanking of tools and flicking of switches. 

But he couldn’t pay too much attention. Renji was inching his fingertips underneath the hem of his shirt.

He opened his eyes.

The redhead was grinning. ‘That Il Forte guy’s kinda pretty.’

Grimmjow smirked, imagining the look on Il Forte’s face if he’d heard Renji say that. He jerked his thumb toward Shuuhei. ‘You’ve got plenty of pretty right here.’

Shuuhei’s eyes widened for a second and he looked away, his hand twitching into the hem of his vest. It was a brief movement, but Grimmjow caught it. It looked like the kid had brought his hand back to his side at the last second, stopped himself from doing something. It was more than his hand, really, the kid’s whole body seemed to flicker, like a heat haze. Grimmjow wondered if he’d wanted to turn away, cover his face. Shuuhei seemed every bit as shy as he’d imagined. No doubt he really _had_ blushed every time he’d got a valentine’s card.

But Shuuhei surprised him: he untangled his fingers from his vest and reached for him. He gently curled his long fingers around Grimmjow’s wrist, staring intently into his face as he did. Searching, almost. Grimmjow tried to keep his expression as _non-threatening_ as he could – the kid still looked half-likely to bolt at any second. It seemed to work; Shuuhei pulled his arm close and began to trace his fingertip cautiously, curiously, around the grease smears on his skin and the grooves of the muscles on his forearm.

Renji’s grin grew wider. ‘And right _here_ ,’ he said, leaning close, blowing gently on Grimmjow’s lips. 

His proximity was maddening: he was close enough to burn Grimmjow with his sex-red eyes, but he kept himself just out of reach. Grimmjow clenched his teeth. He _wanted_ to reach. He wanted to _taste_. But Renji slipped further away from him, moving to nuzzle along his jaw and down his neck, barely making contact, his breath tickling the skin above Grimmjow’s collar.

Shuuhei’s touch was slowly growing firmer, more confident; Grimmjow watched the kid brush his fingertips up to the crook of his elbow and then back to his wrist again, gliding them over his palm to uncurl his fingers. It was strange; Shuuhei’s face was still serious, almost solemn, but his touch was pleasant, warming his skin in long, gentle strokes. Shuuhei moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue and bowed his head; he pressed his mouth against Grimmjow’s palm and gave a low sigh that Grimmjow _felt_ , long and deep. It made his fingers clench. He wanted to touch the kid, wanted to feel him properly. But Shuuhei smoothed his hand open again, bringing Grimmjow’s fingertips up to his mouth and kissing each one.

At his neck, Renji’s breath felt almost _solid_ , hot and quick and never ceasing; not when he snaked one hand up Grimmjow’s shirt, not when he took away Grimmjow’s coffee mug and set it down on the shelf. Grimmjow was grateful for that. It meant his left hand was free again. He pressed it flat against Renji’s shoulderblade, feeling bunching muscles and _warmth_ through the rough fabric of his shirt. Renji blew lightly on his adam’s apple and he gritted his teeth, fighting not to arch against Renji’s mouth like he wanted.

Shuuhei’s lips brushed against the bones of his wrist, making his fingers twitch again with the need to _feel_. The kid still looked so serious, and his kisses were soft and quick; Grimmjow had first thought it looked like Shuuhei was studying him, but now he thought it was more like the kid was _exploring_ , trying to decide what he tasted like. Trying to decide whether he liked it. The tip of Shuuhei’s tongue pressed against his pulse, so warm and wet Grimmjow had to bite his own tongue to keep from cursing out loud. He bent his fingers to touch the kid’s face, not quite a caress, and Shuuhei stepped closer, pressing one hand to Grimmjow’s chest. Renji put his left hand over Shuuhei’s, lacing their fingers together. It looked good.

Renji _finally_ pressed his face against Grimmjow’s neck – rough stubble grating against his shoulder and making his breath catch – and he _inhaled_ , and Grimmjow figured out what the redhead was doing, why he had felt nothing but warm breath on his skin before now.

Renji was _sniffing_ him.

Grimmjow’s eyes widened. He knew he stank of car parts and oil and grease – could you ask for a quick break if you thought you needed a shower?

But then there was another set of lips on his jaw, and he stopped thinking. 

While Renji nuzzled his neck, sniffing and stubble-scraping and murmuring against his skin, Shuuhei had moved even closer. He was placing small, chaste kisses along his jawline.

The kid’s hair wasn’t so spiked up now, probably loose from Renji’s groping. It was longer than Grimmjow had realised, flopping down over his left eye and partly covering the stripe on his cheek, barely brushing the top of the 69 tattooed there. His eyes were almost closed, and Grimmjow was surprised to see that the three scars furrowed even the back of his eyelid. With his face partly covered like that, his polite smile long gone and just the scarred half of his face visible, Shuuhei looked more… _dangerous_ , somehow; more _fierce_ than he’d first imagined. He pulled his hand from Shuuhei’s grasp and cupped his cheek, rubbing his thumb along the grey stripe tattoo. The kid’s eyelids lifted and Grimmjow found himself staring into dark, liquid eyes. The sense of ferocity he’d felt was suddenly gone. In a way, the kid was _all _eyes; Grimmjow wondered if he realised just how _expressive_ they were.__

__Strands of Shuuhei’s hair tickled the back of his knuckles, and he chased them with his fingers, following them to the roots. The kid seemed to like that; he made a soft noise and pressed his head against Grimmjow’s hand like a kitten, so Grimmjow stroked him, dragging his fingers from Shuuhei’s temple to just above his ear, over and over. He was half-expecting the kid to purr, but he just sighed and pushed closer, his eyelids drooping._ _

__Renji’s fingertips had been playing around his abs, teasing at the waistband of his jeans; they dipped under and then surfaced again, danced along his treasure trail and then circled away. Like Renji was shy, or something. It was purely to irritate him, Grimmjow was sure. Renji began to scrape his nails upward, and Grimmjow held his breath. He was ticklish _just_ around the middle of his abdomen, and the _last_ thing he wanted was anyone finding out. Renji didn’t seem to notice him tense up, though, and his fingers crawled past, going sideways to scratch at his ribs._ _

__Shuuhei, Grimmjow realised, had drawn his lower lip between his teeth again. It made the slight downward slant of his mouth more obvious; close up, it almost looked like he was pouting. He leaned a little closer, his eyes fixed on Grimmjow’s. Like he was asking for _permission_. Grimmjow stooped, allowing their skin to touch, Shuuhei’s forehead against his cheekbone. Shuuhei’s mouth pressed against his jaw, once, twice, three times; his kisses growing longer and firmer each time._ _

__The kid’s lips found that _good_ spot on his jawline and lingered there, and Grimmjow’s hand tightened in his hair. His gaze fell on the opposite shelf; he could make out boxes of spark plugs and brake pads, instantly recognisable even through half-open, unfocused eyes. It was surreal, almost, being held there like that, surrounded by familiar everyday things and familiar everyday scents, with two gorgeous strangers pressed up against him. Renji on his left, pressing against his chest, his mouth wet and eager, and his thick, solid body pushing him hard against the door. Shuuhei on his right, his lips gentle and moist, their bodies almost touching, close enough for Grimmjow to feel the heat of his skin through his shirt. Or maybe it was his own, maybe he was feeling the rising heat of his own body, mingling with Shuuhei’s and Renji’s and billowing between them; watching them through blurry eyes, he could imagine them all shrouded in the haze of their own body heat, rolling over them like mist._ _

__Shuuhei’s lips grazed along his cheek, his browbone, pressed lightly against each of his eyelids. He kissed down to the corner of Grimmjow’s mouth and stopped, nearly touching, their breaths tangling together. Grimmjow moved his fingers, gently ruffling Shuuhei’s hair. He didn’t know why, he wanted to reassure the kid. He supposed he still wasn’t quite sure if Shuuhei really wanted this._ _

__Shuuhei brushed his lips against the corner of Grimmjow’s mouth, briefly, then pulled back. For a second, he stilled, his lips _almost_ close enough to taste, and Grimmjow held his breath. He wanted to _move_ , to take the kid’s lips again, but Shuuhei’s stillness held him back. _ _

__He didn’t know about Renji, but he’d have confidently bet that the kid hadn’t done anything like this before. Renji had thrown himself in whole-heartedly, happily scratching and biting and sucking like it was what he did best (probably was, too), but _this_ one… it was like he was still working it out in his head._ _

__He saw Shuuhei’s adam’s apple pulse, heard him swallow, then he was close again, their mouths pressed together for another heartbeat before he pulled back, then pressed close again… Shuuhei followed the curve of Grimmjow’s bottom lip, touching, pulling back, touching, pulling back… Grimmjow kept still, not wanting to spook him._ _

__‘Grimmjow…’_ _

__His breath hitched. Shuuhei was whispering his name against his lips._ _

__‘Grimmjow…’_ _

__Shuuhei pressed his mouth full against Grimmjow’s, moving soft and slow, his eyelids drawing shut._ _

__‘Fuck…’ Renji whispered, stilling against his chest; Grimmjow could feel the weight of the redhead’s gaze on them as they kissed._ _

__He lowered his hand to the back of Shuuhei’s neck and pulled him closer, his left hand clenching around Renji’s shoulder. Fuck, when last had he been kissed like this?_ _

__Shuuhei’s lips parted and Grimmjow pulled away from him a little, making him tilt his head, trying to follow. The kid’s eyelids fluttered open and Grimmjow kissed the corner of his mouth, wanting to smirk at the way the kid’s eyes widened when he did it again, and again, kissing him back the same way. A soft red flush dusted Shuuhei’s cheeks, and he began to meet Grimmjow’s kisses, their lips barely touching and then separating, again and again. Grimmjow pulled the kid closer. He found he couldn’t quite describe just what it was Shuuhei smelled like. It was familiar and pleasant, but he couldn’t put a name to it._ _

__Renji groaned. ‘Fucking beautiful…’ he murmured. He stirred, his rough fingers moving against Grimmjow’s back, his mouth opening against Grimmjow’s neck once more. Grimmjow rubbed his palm against Renji’s back, over his shoulderblades and down his spine. They felt so different: Renji’s body was thick and heavy with muscle, while Shuuhei was leaner, his muscles shifting gracefully against Grimmjow’s body._ _

__Grimmjow felt like _purring_. Renji had found the sensitive spot where his neck met his shoulder; he was drawing patterns with his tongue, making Grimmjow curse softly against Shuuhei’s mouth. The kid’s almost-kisses were slow and playful, but there was an intensity building beneath. He liked this: Shuuhei’s fingers clenched tight against his chest and his other hand coming up to cling to the nape of Grimmjow's neck, the glass face of the kid's wristwatch biting cold against Grimmjow’s skin and making him aware of how _hot_ his body was; the way their breathing was beginning to come faster, their kisses longer and more intense._ _

__Shuuhei’s lips parted again, and Grimmjow lifted his eyelids slightly. He watched the kid’s face as he flicked his tongue over his lips and just inside; teasing, pulling back when Shuuhei’s mouth opened to let him in. The kid shivered, the tip of his own tongue rubbing against Grimmjow’s, and Grimmjow gave in, tilting his head and pulling Shuuhei closer still, _tasting_ him ( _chocolate… those chocolates on the seat must have been his_ ), swallowing the gasps spilling from his throat._ _

__Renji’s tongue was winding along the skin above his collar; Grimmjow could feel the prickling of gooseflesh there, building beneath Renji’s breath. He felt Renji’s lips press against his shoulder, light and chaste, the kiss slowly growing open-mouthed, and then Renji was sucking, hard, moving his mouth along the curve of his shoulder, his tongue darting underneath his shirt._ _

__Renji bit down._ _


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’d figured Renji probably fucked as wild as he looked, but he’d thought the bastard would kiss, at least, like a normal person.

Grimmjow gasped, tearing his mouth from Shuuhei’s. He felt Renji’s lips curve in what had to be a grin, and his wicked fingers climbed Grimmjow’s torso, settling on his nipple and _twisting_ while he bit down again, harder this time. Grimmjow hissed, his nails clawing into the redhead’s shoulder. The bastard had _sharp_ teeth. He pushed his hand into Renji’s hair – whether to pull him off or urge him on he didn’t quite know – but his fingers found the tie holding it back and he tugged at it one-handed, budging it inch by inch, until Shuuhei helped him, pulling it undone with both hands. 

The hair tie came off and the redhead’s hair spilled free, hanging over his shoulders and tickling Grimmjow’s bared abdomen. He’d thought Renji looked like a delinquent _before_ : standing half-crouched, with his hair down, eyes narrowed and gleaming, he looked _wild_. 

One tattooed brow arched, and the corner of Renji’s mouth quirked up, half-baring a pointed tooth.

Grimmjow felt his own lips curve in response.

_Bring it on._

Strands of red hair floated off Renji’s face each time he exhaled, billowing out and almost touching Grimmjow’s skin, then falling back against the redhead’s lips; back and forth, over and over. Grimmjow slid his fingers through them, clutching at the roots. He’d only meant to pull him up, bring them face to face, but Renji’s eyelids fluttered closed and he gave a groan so low and hoarse that Grimmjow pulled harder than he needed to, using his grip to shove him up against the door.

‘How far down do those tattoos go?’ he murmured, his forehead pressed against Renji’s, their lips close.

Renji’s wicked red eyes opened, and he gave another wide, wolfish grin. ‘Why don’t you see for yourself?’

His mouth slammed against Grimmjow’s, sharp teeth closing instantly on his bottom lip and _tugging_ , biting down hard. Grimmjow growled at him and yanked at his hair, making him gasp and pull back, panting. His lips were glistening and parted, barely an inch away. Grimmjow dragged his tongue across each one in turn, tasting Renji’s saliva and his own, and the redhead hissed, his curses muffled against Grimmjow’s mouth. He’d figured Renji probably fucked as wild as he looked, but he’d thought the bastard would kiss, at least, like a normal person. 

Renji’s tongue pushed against his lips and he sucked it into his mouth – and he knew who the lemonade had belonged to – sinking his teeth in, making him groan and jerk his hips, rubbing himself against Grimmjow’s toolbelt.

He curled his other hand around Shuuhei’s waist and dragged him near, until the kid’s body pressed against his side. He could feel the kid’s chest expand when he inhaled, could hear his low, shallow breathing. Renji rumbled and wrapped an arm around him, just above Grimmjow’s own; Grimmjow heard Shuuhei gasp when they both tightened their grip on him. He wondered if it would become too much for him, two people touching him at once. 

Renj – fuck. Renji had been hot before, but Shuuhei’s closeness seemed to make him _burn_ : he was panting into Grimmjow’s mouth, hips rocking against nothing; his hand scrabbling into Grimmjow’s jeans, his tongue thrusting deeply, urgently – almost down Grimmjow’s throat. Grimmjow nudged his thigh between Renji’s, pushing up, and Renji’s body jerked. He grabbed another fistful of the redhead’s hair and the redhead groaned, low and deep – and so did Shuuhei. It was muffled and shaky, but it hit them both hard; Grimmjow thrusting his thigh against Renji, Renji digging his nails into Grimmjow’s hipbone.

Grimmjow pulled back – fuck, Renji’s tongue was still out, and his lips were wet; his chin was wet, for fuck’s sake – and tensed his hold on the redhead’s hair, snapping his head back; Renji clamped his teeth down on his lower lip, but it didn’t keep back the noises. Grimmjow wondered if Shuuhei never roughed him up like this. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes squeezed shut – he seemed to love it. Maybe it just wasn’t Shuuhei’s thing. But something about Renji just begged for it.

He puffed air against the redhead’s collarbones, retribution for earlier, and Renji arched against him, tilting his head back as far as he could. Up close like this Grimmjow could see the ends of the tattoos on his neck and the beginnings of the tattoos on his chest. He wanted to tear his damn shirt off.

Renji smelled good. 

Grimmjow grazed his teeth at the base of the lightning-bolt tattoo and Renji cursed, grabbing at his hair to crush him closer. He squeezed Shuuhei tighter, pulling him near enough that he could breathe them both in at once. Not only did they each smell faintly of the other, Grimmjow found that their mingled scent was familiar; he realised he’d noticed it back in Shuuhei’s car. He had the absurd feeling that he’d used it to track them, somehow, scenting them like a predator.

Shuuhei made a small noise and Renji turned his head; Grimmjow felt his chest vibrate as he spoke.

‘Fuck, Shuuhei. You look like you’re enjoying the show.’

Grimmjow looked up. The kid’s cheeks were flushed.

Still gripping the back of Grimmjow’s neck, Renji grabbed Shuuhei’s shirt and yanked him near, smashing their mouths together. The kid’s hands came up to slip into Renji’s hair; Renji’s hand went straight for Shuuhei’s ass, squeezing, pulling their hips together.

Grimmjow grinned. Fuck, but they looked good together.

He slid his hands up Shuuhei’s back, lifting the long strands at the nape of his neck so he could trail his fingernails along the bare skin between the kid’s vest and his choker. A trail of goosebumps rose under his fingertips; he leaned in and kissed them away, pressing their bodies together, pushing Shuuhei harder against Renji, who snaked his hand down to Grimmjow’s hip, jerking him closer still. The kid squirmed between them, shivering each time Grimmjow’s lips touched his skin. 

He liked how sensitive the kid was, but he would play with him later.

For now, he knew what he wanted to see.

He slipped his hands between the two of them, pulling their torsos apart slightly, reaching for the buttons on Renji’s shirt. He felt like he couldn’t get the damn thing off fast enough; the redhead straightened his arms out one at a time to let him pull the sleeves down. When it was finally off and tossed over his shoulder, he realised Renji was fumbling at Shuuhei’s belt; he reached around and helped him, both of them easing Shuuhei’s pants over his hips.

The kid was wearing black silk boxer shorts; they were shiny and invitingly smooth across a firm, beautifully curved ass. It made Grimmjow’s palm itch. He wanted to smack his hand against the soft silk.

Maybe later.

Renji didn’t even give Shuuhei time to kick his pants off properly, grabbing him and sinking his teeth into the kid’s shoulder, drawing low, delicious gasps from his throat and making his body shiver and arch. Grimmjow was happy just to watch and listen, but Shuuhei reached for him and grabbed at his elbow, tugging. He let himself be dragged, closing his hands over Shuuhei’s hips and running his palms slowly up his sides. Shuuhei trembled; his head slumped back, falling against Grimmjow’s shoulder, letting him see how flushed the kid was. He could barely keep his eyes open. Grimmjow nuzzled his cheek, gliding his hands over his torso. He couldn’t take his eyes away from Renji’s mouth, dragging over Shuuhei’s shoulder, reddening and bruising and marking Shuuhei’s pale skin.

He felt a hand at his side – Renji – gripping the hem of his shirt and tugging. It was kind of funny that Renji seemed to have taken it upon himself to get everybody naked. Impatient bastard. Grimmjow watched him struggle, grinning at how desperately he was pulling. Hard enough to tear it, if he didn’t do something about it. He moved away a little, giving himself room to pull his shirt off, but Shuuhei reached after him. It surprised him: it was like the kid didn’t want him going far away.

His shirt was halfway off his chest when Renji’s fingers scrabbled up his bared skin, drawing dangerously close to the ticklish spot over his abs; he tossed his shirt away and grabbed the redhead’s hand, sinking his teeth into the wrist. It got him a nice little moan. He saw the redhead bite down on Shuuhei’s shoulder and the kid’s body arched, shifting slightly away from Renji’s.

Grimmjow released Renji’s wrist and stared. He half wanted to moan himself.

Renji’s fingers dropped to Grimmjow’s hip, fidgeting at his belt; Grimmjow swatted his hand away. He was blocking the view.

The tattoos, it turned out, went _all_ the way down; sections of them appeared and disappeared as Shuuhei slid his hands over Renji’s chest. They were a rugged design, a rhythm of slashes traversing his upper body, intersected here and there by strands of Renji’s hair, dripping down his torso like blood. The tattoos started on his upper arms, just above the elbow, curling around his biceps like snakes or dragon’s tails. They slithered up to his shoulders and then travelled down, spreading diagonally in a boxy, spiky chain link, from each shoulderblade to the middle of his chest, like a ripple in ink of his beating heart.

And there was more.

Fuck.

The design began again at the crest of Renji’s stomach, three thick black lines curled around both his topmost abdominal muscles, grasping them. The design fanned out sideways and down his ribs, graceful, liquid lines flowing on downward and disappearing into the waistband of his pants.

Grimmjow growled. The redhead’s clothing was really pissing him off.

He realised he was gripping Shuuhei’s shoulder, keeping him off Renji so he could admire him properly; he released the kid and reached for the catch on Renji’s belt. He unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them down. The redhead was wearing white cotton boxers underneath, patterned with bright green shamrocks. Grimmjow wondered vaguely just how lucky he was feeling, and yanked them down. 

Fuck.

Grimmjow wanted to wolf whistle. Fuck, he wanted to howl.

The tattoos went down past his navel, the dark lines curling against his hipbones and ending in jagged slashes at the apex of his thighs.

It made Grimmjow’s mouth water.

He stooped, tracing his fingers along the black lines on the redhead’s hip. Renji’s abs pulsed at the contact, making the tattoos writhe. Grimmjow had been half-expecting them to feel rough, they looked so rugged and raw. He found he couldn’t imagine Renji without them, like they had grown there rather than being tattooed on. Like the markings on an animal.

He leaned closer and nuzzled Renji’s hipbone. Fuck, did he smell good. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the redhead’s hand slip down to Shuuhei’s boxers; he heard a breathy groan from Shuuhei as Renji’s fingers began to move over the black silk.

He pressed his lips to the end of the tattoo on Renji’s left thigh, growling at the feeling of the redhead’s skin against his mouth. He followed the tattoo upward with his tongue, making Renji’s hips buck against him. Grimmjow realised that he had been vaguely expecting them to taste of something; blood or midnight or sex, maybe, but they just tasted of Renji.

Which was even better.

It was sexier than it had any right to be: the texture of the redhead’s skin and clenching muscles under his tongue, the feeling of Renji’s thigh muscles tensing against his chest. Fuck, even ignoring the way it felt, the _view_ he had was incredible: the tattoos looked alive, slick with Grimmjow’s saliva and writhing like snakes as Renji’s muscles pulsed under his gliding tongue. He licked over the redhead’s hip, across his abs, extreme close-up scenes for the filthy movie they played out in Grimmjow’s head. He shut his eyes to focus on the noises from above, the deep breathing and cursing and groaning and wet sucking noises filling the room like an obscenely filthy soundtrack. He heard Shuuhei moan and the sound made Grimmjow sink his teeth into Renji’s side. The redhead cursed loudly, bucking hard, his fingers coming off Shuuhei’s waist and curling into Grimmjow’s hair. He was pushing slightly, most likely unconsciously; he probably wanted Grimmjow’s mouth on his cock. While Grimmjow had to admit the redhead’s magnificent erection was also very tempting, those tattoos were calling him. Had been since Renji had come toward him in the workshop.

Shuuhei’s hip bumped against his shoulder; he had to fight the urge to lift his head and _bite_ the kid, see what kinds of noises that would draw from him. He glanced up, not taking his tongue off Renji’s abs. The redhead’s other hand was still pressed against Shuuhei’s boxer shorts, but it wasn’t moving anymore. Shuuhei had dipped his head to suck at Renji’s nipple, pinching the other between his fingers, his left hand gliding smoothly over the redhead’s cock. Renji’s eyes were half-open, glazed. His gaze shifted to Grimmjow, to Grimmjow’s tongue on his body. Their gazes connected, and Renji smirked, although he was far too breathless to be as cocky as he intended.

‘Kinky bastard, ain’t ya?’


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘You carry lube around in your pocket?’

Grimmjow grinned at him. _‘I’m_ not the one who pushed my boyfriend into a storage room for a quick fuck.’

Renji fisted his hair tight and pulled. Grimmjow stood, reluctantly, putting his hand on Shuuhei’s shoulder for balance. He’d wanted to lick those tattoos all the way up.

‘I can’t help it,’ Renji told him, his eyes blazing.

Grimmjow felt his fists clench. The bastard’s voice was _rough_ , dirty-sexy hot.

‘It’s the smell of burning rubber and grease and gasoline. Makes me horny. And _you_ …’ He buried his face in Grimmjow’s neck and breathed deeply. ‘… you _reek_ of it,’ he growled. ‘Like walking, breathing, car-fixing _sex_.’

Grimmjow’s lip curled, and he gripped down hard on Renji’s hair. That shut the fucker up; he groaned, his neck curving and his back arching. Grimmjow licked his lips. The bastard’s sweat-slicked throat and collarbones were bared, begging for him to sink his canines into.

He never got to, though – Shuuhei gasped, and the sound stopped him cold. The kid had been making beautiful noises all night, hoarse, breathless sounds that made Grimmjow want to pin him down and _pound_ him, but this one made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

He turned to find the kid’s liquid eyes on his chest, widening as they drifted up toward his shoulder. Beside him, he felt Renji straighten up, felt him follow Shuuhei’s gaze.

The scar.

‘Fuck, Grimmjow…’

He’d forgotten about it. It started at his left shoulder and slanted down to his right hipbone. He started to growl. Their gazes felt too heavy. People expected a sob story about now, or just looked at him like he was the last puppy in the fucking petshop.

But Renji curled his fingers around his belt and yanked him close. The bastard’s eyes were still gleaming.

‘You’ve got some mean body art of your own…’ he said, dipping his mouth to Grimmjow’s shoulder.

Renji closed his lips over the rough edge of the scar and sucked hard. Grimmjow gritted his teeth – the redhead licked and nipped, rough and noisy, all but _gnawing_ his way downward.

Shuuhei knelt at his side, pulling his jeans down slightly to reveal the other end of the scar. He followed it with his eyes; Grimmjow settled his hand on the kid’s head, making him look up. Their gazes connected, and Shuuhei smiled at him, making small circles on Grimmjow’s hipbone with his fingertips. He leaned in, gently kissing his way upward.

_Fuck…_

Grimmjow’s eyes fell shut. His focus flitted between the two: Renji’s wet, erratic tongue, his sharp teeth; Shuuhei’s light kisses and languorous licking, his fingers on Grimmjow’s abdomen, stroking slowly. The two of them mapped him, their tongues eventually meeting and entwining again, their arms around Grimmjow and each other, Grimmjow watching them with half-closed eyes.

When they broke apart, the redhead looked up at him and smirked.

‘Enjoying yourself?’

Grimmjow just grinned.

Renji bit him on the shoulder, then stepped out of reach. The bastard was humming, Grimmjow realised. He crouched down next to his discarded jeans, pulling a small bottle from his pocket.

Grimmjow gaped. ‘You carry lube around in your pocket?’

Renji arched an eyebrow at him. ‘Don’t you?’

He didn’t. But he would from now on.

Renji came up behind Shuuhei and kissed the back of his neck, pulling at his boxer shorts with his left hand, the fingers of his right hand glistening. Grimmjow slid his palm against the kid’s bared hipbone. Somehow it seemed sexier that he still had his vest on, flashing just a hint of skin above his shorts.

‘Let’s give the friendly mechanic a good show, eh?’ Renji growled in Shuuhei’s ear. ‘Since he was nice enough to stay open just for you…’

 _Fuck._

Grimmjow felt the kid shiver under his hand. He looked up and their eyes met – the kid’s dark eyes all but swallowed by pupil – before Renji pulled him away. 

Renji backed Shuuhei up until his thighs hit a fat chest of drawers Grimmjow kept ancient paperwork in. Grimmjow saw the kid gasp: the thing was probably fucking cold. The bastard didn’t seem to care in the least, though, and pushed him down so his pert little ass was seated on the broad surface of the thing, his arms wrapped around the redhead’s neck for balance.

Renji’s mouth descended on his collarbones, nipping and sucking, while he shucked the kid’s boxer shorts.

‘Spread for me, Shuuhei,’ he murmured.

The kid obeyed, bringing his thighs – lean, muscled, and dappled with hickies – up on either side of the bastard’s waist. Renji hooked his left hand under Shuuhei’s knee, spreading his legs wide. 

Renji took a deep breath, murmuring appreciatively. ‘Yeah, that’s it, Shuu… Nice and wide.’

He leaned in for a kiss, his right hand disappearing from sight; Grimmjow could still see the bastard’s elbow, though, moving forward slowly. Shuuhei gasped, his head falling back against the wall. Renji nuzzled his neck, their bodies sliding against one another.

It was a good show. The barely-dark lighting, Renji’s low, filthy voice, the wet lube-noises and the mewling from the kid’s fuckable mouth – Grimmjow felt like he was watching a peepshow. He couldn’t see either man’s body properly, just tiny glances, flashes; Shuuhei’s abs, Renji’s firm ass and back. Grimmjow hadn’t realised the bastard’s tattoos went down his back; he saw slivers of black beneath the redhead’s ever-shifting hair.

Grimmjow bit his lip. His hips were straining to _move_. These two knew each other well; they had fallen into a pace that looked familiar and practiced.

While Renji’s elbow moved, forward and back, again and again, he was muttering in Shuuhei’s ear:

‘You’re loving this, aren’t you? A man you’ve never met before is going to help me fuck you senseless in some grimy storeroom, and you’re _loving_ it.’

The bastard had just the right kind of voice for dirty talk, coarse and low. Still, Grimmjow found himself opening his mouth to point out that his storeroom was _pretty fucking clean_ , until Shuuhei mewled and bucked his hips, and he decided to let it slide.

The lube lay discarded beside Renji’s pants. It was black cherry flavoured, the bottle said. Grimmjow picked it up and slicked his fingers well, taking a tentative taste. It wasn’t bad.

The redhead was still mumbling words Grimmjow couldn’t quite make out, his hair sweeping against both their bodies. Shuuhei moaned low, his shoulders and the back of his head scraped against the wall behind him as they moved; Grimmjow was sure he’d be sore later.

The kid was keening, grabbing fistfuls of Renji’s long hair; the movement bared the side of the bastard’s neck, and Grimmjow saw deep teethmarks next to his lightning-bolt tattoos. He pushed up against Renji and followed the bitemark with his tongue, making the redhead groan and push back against him.

‘Grimmjow…’

He bit Renji’s earlobe. ‘Hm?’

The bastard chuckled. ‘Look at him, Grimmjow,’ he said, nodding toward Shuuhei. ‘Isn’t he gorgeous?’

It wasn’t like Grimmjow didn’t already think so, hadn’t already thought so a hundred times, but he knew what Renji was saying. The kid was flushed and panting, one foot planted on the edge of the box and the other held in place over Renji’s elbow, keeping his legs spread while the redhead stretched him. The angle didn’t look comfortable, but it made for a hell of a view. Grimmjow found himself wondering just how _bendable_ Shuuhei was.

‘Damn straight.’

‘You hear that, Shuu?’ The bastard sounded gleeful: Grimmjow could hear the shit-eating grin in his voice.

Shuuhei’s eyelids lifted slightly, just enough for his gaze to meet Grimmjow’s. With his lids low like that, the right side of his face was all scar. His eyes were glazed, his lips parted, and his skin gleamed with sweat – he looked feral, wanton, and Grimmjow _badly_ wanted to see what that mouth could do.

Not just his mouth. Grimmjow watched the redhead finger-fucking him, nice and slow, twisting and stretching, making the kid’s lean, luscious body shudder, making him pant. He wanted his cock in there. He pushed his hips forward, rubbing his dick against Renji’s back.

Renji gave a small moan, rolling his pelvis backward. ‘You should feel this, Shuu. Mr Mechanic’s rock hard for you.’

Grimmjow snorted. ‘Like you had nothing to do with it,’ he said, jabbing Renji in the ass.

Renji opened his mouth to say something, but Grimmjow reached around and grabbed the bastard’s cock; that shut him right the fuck up. He slowly pumped the shaft with his left hand, and dragged the little finger of his right hand over Renji’s hip, around and across his lower back, down to the cleft of his ass.

He waited until Renji pushed forward again, focused completely on Shuuhei’s body (and Grimmjow couldn’t blame him, really, Shuuhei was _lovely_ ), then slid his hand down to Renji’s ass, his slicked index finger finding and trailing and circling.

‘Gri-’

Grimmjow cut him off by pushing in; Renji’s head jerked backward so hard it almost concussed him.

‘Fu-!’

Grimmjow smirked. He pushed in deeper, up to the second knuckle, and Renji spluttered curses, his back arching.

Slowly, he pushed in all the way then out again, knuckle by knuckle, making Renji hiss. It was _cute_ , the way the bastard kept trying to _say_ something, but ended up sputtering and gulping for air instead. Did he want to make Grimmjow wait? Fuck that. _He’d_ wanted him to stay.

Shuuhei was still pressed against the wall – although the redhead wasn’t working him anymore – watching them with heavy-lidded eyes.

Grimmjow added a second finger, moving nice and slow, his left hand still jerking Renji’s cock. Renji dropped his head backward onto Grimmjow’s shoulder, moaning, panting hard. Those noises… fuck. Shuuhei’s noises had been rich and luxuriant, but Renji’s were desperate, broken and breathless. Grimmjow wanted to make him _scream_.

Shuuhei freed himself from Renji’s (considerably weaker) grasp and dropped to his knees, putting himself at eye level with the redhead’s cock. The kid looked up at Grimmjow and smiled, licking his lips. Grimmjow’s grin grew wider, and he took his hand away.

Shuuhei plunged his mouth around Renji’s cock, taking him deep all at once, and Grimmjow surged his fingers inside him all the way.

 _‘Fuck!’_

Renji’s body jolted; he bent almost double, nearly overbalancing. Grimmjow and Shuuhei grappled his hip at the same time, steadying him – their fingers crushed together and their gazes locked. The unbridled glee in the kid’s eyes made Grimmjow laugh out loud. For all Shuuhei’s respectable manner, the kid was a greedy _brat_.

The redhead mewled, reaching shakily for something to hold on to, his fingers finding the shelf nearby and grasping weakly. His breathing was ragged; he gasped out fragments of words that Grimmjow couldn’t make out. Curses, probably.

Or maybe he was thanking god: Shuuhei’s perfect blowjob lips never stopped moving, and Grimmjow matched the kid’s speed and rhythm stroke for stroke. It was _fucking hot_ – this kid could suck cock with the best of them, and with their fingers pressing together and Shuuhei’s glittering eyes locked on his own, Grimmjow could practically _feel_ that hot mouth wrapped around his own cock.

The redhead’s back arched, a deep groan spilling from his lips, and Grimmjow found himself wishing they were in front of a mirror. He could feel the tremors running through Renji’s body, but he wanted to _see_ it, wanted to be able to zoom in on Renji’s clenching abs, his straining hips. Maybe he’d gotten enough close-ups earlier – his mind’s eye showed him flashes of Renji’s sweat-slick tattoos, his creased brow, his sexy fuck-me mouth hanging open.

Wasn’t enough, though. Maybe he just wanted Renji to see himself like this.

Shuuhei’s other hand was on Renji’s balls now, his eyes closed and his lips wet and glistening. Fuck, but he could suck cock. No wonder Renji seemed so fucking horny all the time. He probably had images like this in his head 24 fucking 7.

Renji was close. Renji was so close Grimmjow could _smell_ it, and it was sexy as _fuck_. He desperately wanted to jerk off his own aching cock, blow his load all over the redhead’s back, but more than that, he wanted to drive this powerful man wild.

Grimmjow bit Renji’s shoulder, up his neck, finding his earlobe and tugging hard. He pressed his lips against Renji’s ear: ‘ _You’re_ the one who’s loving this, aren’t you?’

 _Fuck_. Renji actually _whimpered_.

‘You’re the one loving getting fingerfucked by some man you’ve never met before, getting sucked off in some filthy storage room, _Renji_.’

The redhead’s breath hitched, and he reached up, grabbing the hair at the nape of Grimmjow’s neck, clinging to him. Grimmjow pulled Renji’s earlobe between his teeth, biting down until he heard him hiss. He felt manic. He spread his fingers apart and twisted slightly, and the redhead cursed, his back arching.

‘You know it, don’t you? We’re going to make you come so hard you’re going to forget your own fucking name. And then you’re going to watch me fuck your boyfriend so hard and so good he’s going to _scream_ and _beg_ me for more. And you. Fucking. Love it.’

Renji groaned, digging his nails into the back of Grimmjow’s neck and jerking his hips harder, shoving himself hard into Shuuhei’s mouth. The brat was _fucking_ good. The redhead had him by the hair, all but fucking his face, and still the kid never lost his pace, never eased up, never took his wicked eyes off his lover’s face. The hotter he got, the more glorious the redhead’s noises became: shuddering, dirty, desperate moans and pleas that went straight to Grimmjow’s cock. He wanted to hear _more_.

‘You know what, Renji? I’ll bet you’d like it even more if I dragged you by the hair and fucked you out there on the workshop floor, fucked you right there, in all that dirt and grease… Fucked you so hard you have to _limp_ out of here, and you can’t wash the stink off you for days, can’t wash the stink of _me_ off you for days…’

Renji wailed, tossing his head and keening like he was in pain. He probably was: Grimmjow and Shuuhei had him. Fucking _had_ him. He was almost there – Grimmjow’s own body was thrumming with tension, and he could see the burning eagerness in Shuuhei’s eyes. It was like Renji was going to come hard enough for all three of them.

Grimmjow grabbed Renji’s hair and yanked hard, pressing his mouth to the bastard’s ear. ‘Come. **Now**.’

Renji _screamed_. 

Grimmjow pulled harder, and the redhead sobbed, his body shuddering, tensing, twisting; his hips bucking wild, his voice straining and shaking and breaking as he arched his back and wailed his release: Grimmjow’s own body felt tremulous, the echo of Renji’s cry reverberating through his bones, making his own blood sing.

The bastard’s voice grew hoarse, fractured, while they rode it out, Grimmjow and the kid gradually slowing until Renji whimpered for them to please, for fuck’s sake, fucking stop already.

Grimmjow slid his fingers out gently, still holding him up. As Shuuhei straightened up Grimmjow pulled him close and kissed him over Renji’s shoulder, swiping his tongue inside the brat’s mouth, growling at the taste of _Renji_. Shuuhei’s eyes gleamed, wickedly triumphant.

Renji was panting, clutching at the wall. His face was almost as red as his hair. ‘Fucking… filthy fucking bastards…’


End file.
